Season By Season
by madeleinedawn
Summary: It is one year after the series finale...Joey and Pacey are making a life together in New York City, but merging their lives is more difficult than Joey anticipated.


**Season by Season**

_Chapter One_

It is with a smile that Josephine Potter steps up into the third floor hallway and walks to the last door on the right, apartment 3C. Her arms are filled with brown paper shopping bags and so she gently kicks the door with a boot-clad foot.

"Pace? It's me. Can you open the door, please?"

She waits for a few seconds, shifting the weight of the bags, and kicks the door a bit harder. "Pacey!"

She cannot detect any movement within the apartment and decides not to wait for his help. He's most likely in the shower, singing Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of his lungs. She places the bags on the floor and unzips her purse. As she rummages through its contents to find her keys, excitement flickers up and down her spine. She has been anticipating this evening for what feels like forever. An actual date, an actual night reserved for each other.

She pauses to take a stick of Cinnaburst gum from its wrapping and pops it into her mouth. The past eight months - eight months of Pacey living with her - have been quite different from what she would have imagined. Instead of merging together, their lives have become one gigantic scheduling conflict.

Joey knows quite well that opening and running a restaurant is a tremendous effort. And more than anything, she wants Pacey to be successful in his dream - to be happy here in Manhattan because this is where she is happy. But when they decided that he should move from Capeside to New York, it was for the ultimate goal of being closer. Somehow, she had more quality time with him in the four months that the relationship was long distance. Somehow, she missed him less then than now. At least when he was in Capeside, she didn't have this expectation to be near him. And she has always been one to deal with reality's starkness better than the wispy texture that is hope.

Her fingers touch cold metal and she pulls out her keys. Tonight she will not worry about the distance between their respective daily paths. She will concentrate on their one year anniversary. She pushes the key into the lock, ready to succumb to all the feel-good cliches of romance. She has the cheesecake, the wine, a few movies, breakfast goodies for tomorrow. Pacey has the candles, lobster, music - the door swings open and she closes her eyes to block the sight that greets her.

The apartment is dark, silent. She bites her bottom lip and picks up her bags. Stepping into the living room, she places everything onto the coffee table and turns around to shut the door. Swiftly, she turns the lock and flips on the overhead light.

With little hope, she checks the kitchen and the breakfast nook. She pokes her head into the guest room that they use as an office, the hall bathroom, their bedroom. He is not here and has left no evidence as to his recent presence or an imminent return.

Joey plops onto the unmade bed amid the tried on and discarded outfits of the morning rush and tries to refrain from jumping to conclusions. He's probably just running late. She'll change and light candles herself.

Determined to not lose her happy outlook, she walks back to the living room and checks her cell for a missed call. None. As she touches her finger to the keypad to dial Pacey's number, the phone begins to ring. The caller ID says 'Dawson' and she smiles.

"Hello, California."

"Hello, New York." His voice, as always, is comforting in its familiarity. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing really." She sits on the floor next to a bookshelf filled with novels and picture albums. "I just got home - "

"Oh, I'm sorry, Joey. Tonight's the anniversary dinner. I was trying to catch you before you got home so I wouldn't interrupt anything."

Joey glances around the quiet room. "Don't worry. You're not interrupting a thing."

"Are you okay? You sound a little upset."

She winces. Dawson and his perceptions. Pacey may be the love of her life, but her best friend will always be able to see right through her. Even when they're separated by an entire continent.

"Joey? You there?"

"I'm here. Sorry. I was just thinking that you can still read my mind. I'm fine. It's just that Pacey's not here yet. But he's probably on his way. I was hoping he'd be here when I got here, that's all."

"Of course he's on his way." His pause is weighted and Joey can imagine the expression on his face - eyes narrowed and a hand restlessly going through his blonde hair. As usual, torn between concern for her and irritation with Pacey. "How are you guys doing?"

"Fine. The restaurant is doing great - did you know that a food critic called it the best sea food place in New York?"

"Joey. Talk to me."

She tucks her hair behind her ears and bites her lower lip, hating her insubordinate emotions. "I feel like I'm losing my mind. I don't know what's wrong with me, Dawson! You know all of those stupid, romantic things I always used to scorn? Lying in bed all day, candle lit meals, dancing when there's no music - "

"Yeah? The unmeltable Josephine Potter. I knew her."

"Well, something happened when I finally admitted how much I cared about Pacey. All of a sudden I wanted those things and now that he's here and we don't get to do the silly, dumb, couple things I always laughed about- and for some insane reason, I'm sad."

"You love him, Joey. It's good that you want those things. You should have them."

"I guess."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Yes. He - well, I - can we talk about something else?" She pulls off her boots and carries them into the bedroom.

"Momentarily. I'll let you avoid for a minute. But only for a minute."

"Gee, thanks," she mutters sarcastically.

"Listen, I called because I'm actually going to be in New York in a few weeks and I wanted to give you a heads up so we can hang out."

She grabs the errant clothing off the bed and heads to the closet. "That's great news! What brings you? Besides my presence, of course."

"Obviously you're the biggest draw, but the show's doing a couple of scenes there, too."

"Ah. As if TRL doesn't draw enough screaming youth to Times Square already."

"I guess you've noticed the hype around our young stars."

"Are you kidding? Their faces are plastered on every magazine cover in the grocery store checkout line."

"I know. And let me tell you, they're enjoying it."

"Definitely let me know when you'll be arriving, okay?"

"I will. By the way, your minute is up. Call Pacey now."

"Fine. You know, I thought you would grow out of being bossy, but I guess you're not."

"Nope. Bye, New York."

She grins. "Bye, California."

She walks back into the living room and lights the tall freesia-scented candle on the coffee table. She sits on the wide green couch and dials Pacey's cell phone number. It rings twice before he answers in his husky tone.

"Hey, Jo."

"Hi."

She doesn't have to vocalize her question.

"Listen, I'm so sorry that I'm not there - " His hesitation belies bad news.

"What's going on, Pacey?" She hears a crash of what sounds like a large stack of plates.

"I know we're supposed to have our thing tonight - "

"Our thing? By 'our thing', do you mean our anniversary dinner that we have had planned for two months?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. I hate that this is happening, Joey, but we just found out an hour ago that Micah Winslow is reviewing us tonight. Micah Winslow! He's the biggest food critic in Manhattan! Can you believe it? If he likes us, then we're in with the talk shows, we're in with MTV, we - Joey?"

"I'm here. And you're staying there. That's what you're saying."

"I kind of have to be here. I'm sorry. I really am. But - why don't you come down here? We'll eat together and after he leaves - "

"That's okay. I guess I'll catch you later."

"Maybe tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow's out. I have to go to Boston."

"Right. Your book thing. You're meeting that old professor of yours."

"That and I'm meeting up with Jack and your brother to visit Grams. This is a really hard month for her."

"I know."

Joey can hear someone calling for Mr. Witter's help on Pacey's end of the line. "You've gotta' go."

"Yeah. I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Okay."

"I love you, Joey."

"You too."

She throws the phone onto the carpet.

"Screw Micah Winslow, screw the Capeside Cafe, and most importantly, screw Pacey Witter!" Her voice is loud in the room but she would rather yell at the walls than let herself give in to the crying-conducive disappointment gnawing at her stomach.

She glances at the clock as she gathers her dark hair into a loose braid. Six-thirty. The entire night is now open. She left her files at work, expecting to not have time for them. But the meeting with David Wilder tomorrow is about her own novel, so reading over the final draft would be helpful.

This will be the first face-to-face she has had with David in years. He came back to Boston after his books began to find an audience, and contacted Joey through an alumni list. They picked up a friendship of sorts, through email and a few scattered calls. He volunteered to go over her draft with her before she began the process of attempting publication. She shudders just thinking about it. As an editor, she is well aware of the pitfalls writing a book lays out in a person's path. She'll take all the help she can get.

She idly wonders if that lock of hair that draped over David's forehead still begs to have fingers ran through it. These days she can smile at the thought of their almost affair. For a long time, she was angry with him. Angry that he wouldn't hear her out, made her into this figure crossing paths with him instead of a flesh and blood person. She is sure that a big part of her is reveling in the fact that tomorrow he will be forced to hear her, forced to see her as the woman she has become.

And as for tonight? She'll change into pajamas, brew a pot of coffee, and open the cheesecake. Pacey may have stood her up, but she has no intention of letting that cheesecake spend the night alone.

When the sound of the front door wakes her, the blue numbers on the alarm clock glow at 2:40. She stays on her side and immediately recloses her eyes when Pacey enters their bedroom.

She knows his actions - the small details that make up his routine, his daily habits - as well as she knows her own. He takes off his watch and places it on the dresser, takes off his clothes down to his boxers, walks into the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth.

The water ceases to run and his steps bring him to the bed. He quietly slips under the covers and presses his body against hers. "Joey? Are you really sleeping?"

She doesn't respond.

Undaunted, he places his hand on her hip and runs it lightly down her leg.

Her tone is even, calm. "Are you kidding me?"

"Joey. I missed you, sweetheart."

She turns to lie flat on her back and looks up at him. He's watching her intently with his dark eyes and begins to kiss her neck in that soft, insistent manner that she usually has difficulty resisting.

"You missed me? Really? I find that difficult to sincerely believe, as it is 2:47 in the morning and you didn't even have the consideration to call. You weren't concerned about what I was doing or if I might be worried when you failed to show up at a decent hour or - "

"I know. Things got completely insane at the restaurant - let me just say it involved a critic that enjoyed our alcoholic selections a little too much and an ill-timed waitress- "

"I find it incredibly hard to care."

"Okay. Alright then. Clearly, I should save the story for later. Listen to me. I'm sorry, I really am. I was thinking of you the whole night. You know that's the truth." He nibbles the edge of her ear. "Let me make it up to you. Please?"

In one fluid motion, she pushes his away and sits up. "I don't think so, Pacey. You don't want to make anything up to me. You just want to finish your night off with a self-congratulatory bang."

He groans. "Jo. You're the only woman in the world who can make a pun that mean-spirited."

"I'm sleeping on the couch." She slides off the side of the bed and grabs a blanket from the closet.

"You cannot be serious. It's our anniversary!"

She looks directly at the clock and back at him. "Actually, it isn't our anniversary. Not anymore."

She leaves the bedroom and sits on the couch. She waits for him to emerge from their bedroom.

She sits in the silence of the living room for a few minutes, fury mounting. He can't even give her a good argument? Incensed, she strides down the hall. Before she can reach the door to the bedroom, she hears his snores. He is sprawled across the bed, soundly sleeping.

Joey stands there for a full ten seconds, trying to decide what to do. Finally, she just shakes her head and says, "Unbelievable."

Numbly, she returns to the couch.

The smell of bacon inundates her senses when the morning light streams through the crimson curtains and rouses her from sleep. Irritation is her first feeling as she remembers why she is waking up on the couch.

"Morning."

She sits up and looks, bleary eyed, at Pacey. He leans against the kitchen door, dressed in only a pair of soft blue pajama pants. She cannot help but to admire his muscular form, perfectly defined from his morning workouts, and her own innate admiration is further annoying.

"Yeah."

"Yeah? What kind of greeting is that? Aren't you supposed to be a writer or something? Shouldn't you be more eloquent?"

"Not when I'm pissed off at you."

"Actually, you should say especially when you're pissed off at me."

"Leave me alone, Pacey." She extracts herself from the blanket tangled around her legs.

"I cannot do that, Miss Potter," he says and sits across from her on the coffee table.

"Yes, you can. You go to work and I'll go to Boston and I'll see you some day sooner or later. Maybe."

"I hate this too, you know. I moved here so that I could stare at you all of the time and not just on weekend visits. Please understand how sorry I am that I let you down last night."

"It took us two months to plan one solid evening together! I know that my schedule is hectic, too, but I feel like you don't even try to make time for us." Her green eyes shine with tears that she won't allow to fall.

He reaches over and takes her face in his hands. "Things will be easier soon. I promise."

"How will they be easier? You already have a terrific manager. Carl is willing and able to take care of things - so why won't you let him? At least every now and then?"

His brown eyes are wide as he drops his hands to hold hers. "You know I never thought this was possible. Pacey Witter, restaurant proprieter in New York City? Capeside is one thing. Manhattan - an entirely different creature. I never would have dared to try this if you hadn't given me the confidence to do it. You believed in me, Jo, and I don't want to fail you. Or myself. That's why I have to be hands-on with every little thing right now. This is my only shot, and I have to make it great."

"The only way you can fail me is by being this absent presence in my life. And you may not mean for it to happen, but it is. Even when I'm with you, it's like your mind is constantly revising the menu or advertising or - I don't know. I've even wondered if you're interested in someone else."

He immediately lets go of her hands. "Okay. That's just ridiculous. And unfair. I can't believe you even said that."

"But - "

"But nothing, Joey! I am doing this for us. I love you and I want to have a family with you. I want to send my kids to college. That's why this first year - I don't have a choice. I have to be there. It's crucial for everything to be perfect. I thought you knew that - I thought you've been supporting me in this!"

She sighs and a single tear makes its way down her cheek. "I am. I'm sorry. But I miss you, Pace. I feel lonely even when you're here and I hate it"  
He wipes the tear away with his finger and gently presses his lips against hers. "I don't want you to feel that way. I'll try harder to balance things. I will."

She nods and manages a tiny, crooked smile. "Okay."

"Now. In that lovely, sunny breakfast nook directly through that door is a table laden with a feast made especially for you. Shall we eat, drink, and be merry?"

"But what time is it? I have to be at the airport - "

"I know. You have an hour."

"Good." She stands and walks towards the hall.

"Joey, where are you going?"

She pauses to look over her shoulder and raise her eyebrows at him. "To pee. Is that alright with you?"

"Oh. Sure. Go ahead."

She laughs and walks into the bathroom. With all of her will, she tries to banish the miniscule germ of unease that plagues her mind. Everything is fine. They are fine. And they will be fine.

Because after all they've been through to get to this point - to get here, at last, where the pieces all fit - any other conclusion would be too much for her to bear.


End file.
